Lifeblood
by ExaltedLight
Summary: An unexpected twist has Bella and her mother move to New Orleans. Meanwhile Klaus undaggers Kol after handing over a daggered Elijah to Marcel. As supernatural politics rage on, the flames of passion and love are fanned between Bella and an Original. War and love usually go hand in hand, right? AU, the Originals and Twilight Crossover. Set in Season 1.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or The Originals. Otherwise both TVD and TO would be written very differently. As for Twilight, it's owned by Stephenie Meyer.**

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 **A/N: This fanfic will be loosely based off Season 1. In any case, Kol was never killed by Elena and Jeremy; he survived but got daggered by Klaus. We also won't be seeing the Cullens or Jacob either. I'll explain in-story why that will be the case.**

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 **A/N: Feedback and constructive criticism are strongly encouraged. I won't tolerate trolls or flamers. Now on to the story.**

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 _Lifeblood_

 _A Twilight and the Originals Crossover_

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Isabella "Bella" Swan was two things now: a soon to-be high school junior and a stepdaughter. Though she was more than happy to see her mother happily married, Bella felt as though she didn't need her anymore. Which was why Bella was going to move to Forks, Washington, to live with her father Charlie. At least she would be able to find her place in the world while taking comfort in the fact that her departure paved the way for Renée's happiness. They were family after all and family looked out for each other, right?

Bella drew her hand away from the huge box she had packed with the last of her belongings. She wiped her profusely sweating brow with the sleeve of her shirt, breathing inward and outward. Bella hadn't known how much stuff her mother and she had until they had begun the process of cleaning out their home, which had taken a little over a week. Then they had to figure out what they wanted and what they didn't - a difficult task for Renée to accomplish. Luckily Bella had an innate understanding of her mother, so figuring out what she truly wanted was rather easy.

"With that, everything is packed," Bella noted. "I just have to tell Mom that we're ready for the big move now and mention that I want to go to Forks. I don't like Forks all that much but there's really nowhere else for me to go. Even so, I might actually miss Phoenix."

The sound of shuffling footsteps resounded through the barren living room and an older version of Bella marched into the living room, looking uncharacteristically serious. One supple hand was cupping Renée's chin as she sighed. All thoughts of leaving Phoenix for Forks immediately left Bella's mind; she was much more concerned for her mother right now.

"What's wrong, Mom?" Bella asked curiously. "You look as if you'd received bad news; is Phil all right?"

Renée nodded almost imperceptibly.

"Phil's fine, honey," she assured Bella. "I just got off the phone with him and it looks as if - as if - well, it turns out that Phil isn't being traded to Jacksonville."

Bella's heart dropped as she dropped her eyes to the ground. Did this mean they weren't moving after all? She couldn't help feeling disappointed at that; she had barely gotten used to the idea of moving to another state and starting anew. Bella wasn't exactly a popular child back at school; she was one of the uncool ones, the social pariahs. So dropping old friends for new ones wasn't an issue for her. A new school and a new town, however, were different stories altogether. Phoenix was a rather large city - large enough for neighbors to feel distant from each other even though they lived so close together.

Renée must've seen the look on Bella's face because she forced a smile.

"We didn't pack for nothing," she promised Bella. "Phil's being traded to the New Orleans Baby Cakes instead of the Jacksonville Jumbo Shrimp."

Bella's mouth dropped open. She wasn't much of a sports fan (being the klutz that she was) although it wasn't terribly uncommon for trades to fall through; the sports industry was a business first and foremost. Bella just didn't think it would happen to Phil, who was looking forward to playing for the Jumbo Shrimp. She could only imagine how Phil must feel right about now.

"So, let me get this straight," Bella began, "Phil's headed to New Orleans instead of Jacksonville, right? New Orleans isn't as sunny as Jacksonville; it's - it's -"

"Rainier than Phoenix," Renée finished. "It's also a pretty dangerous place to live too. All big cities are dangerous to live in as a matter of fact. What's with that look, Bella? Are you - did you really pack the last box? Talk about great timing!"

Bella patted the box as if it were a kitten. New Orleans, Louisiana. It wasn't an ideal place to live - especially since Hurricane Katrina had descended on the city almost a decade ago; Bella remembered all too well the disaster footage broadcast on the news and how her heart had broken for those homeless. However New Orleans was home to quaint architecture that was much older than Phoenix itself. Bayous surrounded the Crescent City, no doubt filled with venomous snakes, leeches, alligators and crocodiles. Forks was starting to look like Heaven on Earth right about now.

"Yeah," Bella agreed. "You know, Mom, I've been thinking . . . I don't want to move halfway across the country with you and Phil. I know what you're going to say, and I'm not staying here," she added quickly, "I've been thinking about this long and hard, and I've been thinking that - that - I want to move in with Cha - I-I mean, Dad instead."

Surprise flitted across Renée's face and she stepped back a few steps, looking as if a pile of bricks were falling on her. Bella tore her eyes away from her mother, feeling as though her heart was being squished by an invisible hand.

"You hate Forks, honey," her mother said finally. "Why go live somewhere you hate?"

Bella jutted her chin.

"Whenever Phil goes on the road, you get all miserable," she answered. "I know we have each other but I also know it isn't quite the same. If I were to go to Forks, then that wouldn't be a problem; you'd be able to go on the road with Phil and not worry about me any longer. And also - and also, I'd like to know my dad more."

Even as Bella mentioned getting to know Charlie much better, she knew straight away it was a lie. Bella and Charlie were very different from each other, meaning living in the same household might mean a lot of adjustments. Bella's mother always said that Bella was more like Charlie although Bella couldn't exactly see how. Then again, Bella hadn't seen her father for years.

Renée smiled understandingly - her smile was a little too understanding for Bella's taste personally. Bella had a gut feeling that Renée had seen through her front; she had to.

"I understand where you're coming from," her mother said, "but you're my rock, Bella. I don't know what I'd do without you, darling. I want you to come with me to New Orleans; don't make that face please. Just try to live in New Orleans, Bella. Try. If you end up hating it, then I'll send you to Forks."

Bella glanced at the door, biting her lip. She didn't want to live in New Orleans or Forks; she preferred Phoenix. However, the Valley of the Sun was no longer her home as of today. No more scorching hot summers where the temperature soared to the hundreds. No more sudden onslaughts of rainstorms that flooded parts of Phoenix for days. Bella wasn't sure if she'd miss the legendary Phoenician summers but definitely the warmer parts of the year, however few they may be.

Bella swallowed as she regarded her mother. She couldn't leave Renée after all; Bella was chained to her mother and vice versa. Besides, who would look after her mother while Phil was gone? Bella didn't mind it although she was bummed out that she couldn't go live in Forks. Then she chided herself for being so inconsiderate; she might be stubborn but she liked to think of herself as fair. Even so, Bella felt as though these metaphorical chains barred her from freedom and independence.

"Fine," she decided. "I'll try."

 _It might feel like forever, but it's only until I turn eighteen and graduate_ , Bella reasoned with herself. _As long as I'm with my mother, then I guess life will be okay. Starting over somewhere I don't know with someone I know is a lot better than starting over with someone I don't know._

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Endless, dreamless sleep brought upon oneself by a fluid stroke of a dagger dipped in white oak ash. Kol Mikaelson had spent almost nine hundred years being daggered on and off for his disobedience toward his elder brothers Niklaus and Elijah Mikaelson. Judging from the sensation he was feeling through his body, Kol had guessed that Klaus had removed the dagger from his white corpse. A small part of Kol wondered how many years Klaus had left him daggered this time while the rest of him felt his fury and chagrin burning through him like a wildfire. Did Jeremy Gilbert manage to complete the Hunter's Mark and release Silas? How could Klaus allow Silas to roam the Earth and raze it to the ground? Elijah too! The existence of Silas threatened the existence of the Originals themselves!

"Time to wake up, little brother," Klaus said softly.

So the coward was in the room with Kol? Good. Kol was going to let Klaus have it. Kol hadn't been this incensed since Klaus and Elijah had daggered him at Christmastime in 1914. Now that wouldn't have happened if Rebekah hadn't sold him out. Kol had wanted to get back at Rebekah for that until he learned Klaus had daggered her eight years later after almost leaving him over Stefan Salvatore. How ironic that Stefan had forgotten and rebuffed Rebekah once she had awakened from her slumber; what goes around comes around.

Kol moved his fingers slightly, his ears picking up on every sound within several miles. Klaus's steady breathing, children's peals of laughter, mindless chattering rippling through crowds, footsteps shuffling through the streets, cars drifting elegantly on the asphalt, thundering heart beats and countless other sounds. The intoxicating, mouthwatering smell of blood wafted from nearby and entered his nostrils. Kol's tongue licked his lips, his heart pounding excitedly. At least Klaus was sensible enough to bring sweet, delectable blood. His throat was so dry that it burned.

Light tickled Kol's eyelids and streamed through. It wasn't sunlight but rather artificial light generated from electricity. Kol fluttered his eyes, milky cobwebs stretching over them. He used all his willpower to banish them from his eyes, thus enhancing his eyesight. He heard the shaking of a bag, the intoxicating smell witching him - inviting him to tear through human flesh and indulge his thirst.

Kol opened his eyes and brought his head up, noticing the white oak dagger laid atop his chest. Beside him sat a ginger young man with deep blue eyes, who clenched a bag filled to the brim with coppery liquid. Kol took one look at the dagger on his chest, swept it into his hand and flung it at Klaus as though it were a dart. Klaus caught the dagger in his hand easily and began twirling it around as Kol rose out of his coffin.

"You have some nerve undaggering me, Nik," Kol said through clenched teeth. "Don't think that just because you have blood bags that I'll forgive you for daggering me like that!"

Klaus stopped spinning the dagger in his hand as he stared at Kol.

"I wouldn't have to resort to such measures had you heeded my request," he explained. "But then, asking you not to do something is a lot like asking the sun not to shine. Why can't - ?"

"I was trying to save us all from Silas!" Kol cut across Klaus. "If Jeremy Gilbert or another member of the Five raises him, then Silas shall bring hell to Earth! I wanted to save our family from destruction, Nik. That's why I did it."

Klaus said nothing for a while and Kol wondered if his brother was about to dagger him again. Then Klaus sighed, threw the blood bag at Kol and reached behind him for a white shopping bag. Kol glowered at Klaus as he sucked on the tube, downing the fresh blood. Type O positive. Kol hated to admit it but he was unbelievably parched; he inhaled the blood before he knew it.

"Am I supposed to thank you for your consideration?" Klaus said in a high voice. "Your unexpected gesture of familial loyalty which, I hate to say, is a tad bit skewed. It matters not what you were thinking, little brother; I saved your life in the end."

Kol drew the tube from his lips.

"By daggering me?" he said disbelievingly. "In what world does daggering me protect me from death? Speaking of death, where's my white oak stake?"

"You mean the weapon of mass destruction you foolishly armed yourself with to defend yourself from me?" Klaus huffed. "I saw to it that it was burned to cinders, Kol. No one - not even my own brother - should wield a weapon which ends the life of an Original. Our family faces countless threats as you well know, and to have you turn on me when we need to appear strong will inspire Rebekah to do the same - especially now out of all times.

"As for saving your life, Elena and Jeremy had engineered a plan to lure you into the Gilbert home and drive that _dear_ stake of yours through your heart," Klaus continued. "If it had worked, then you'd be dead and I would've been forced to maim Jeremy and Elena right where they stood."

Kol snorted; he seriously doubted Klaus would take on the Hunter's Curse for him. Once upon a time, when they were human, Klaus would do anything for him. It was a shame the same couldn't be said for him now that they were Original vampires.

"Surely you didn't let them get away with attempted murder," Kol ventured.

"No," Klaus agreed. "I had to jump through hoops but I had managed to kidnap Elena, drain her of vervain and compel her to kill Jeremy by her own hand. Of course I had to leave Mystic Falls, but that's a tale for another day. Actually make that day today, Kol. I need your - your -"

Klaus looked as though the next word he wanted to spit out was poison.

"You need my help?" Kol finished skeptically. "See, I'm not one to help out megalomaniac people who dagger their siblings in order to control them. Now, no amount of begging would change my mind and that's final."

Klaus pulled the shopping bag in front of him and tossed Kol another blood bag.

"What if, pray tell, we were to travel to New Orleans?" he asked innocently.

Kol flung the empty blood bag skyward as he caught the new one, his heart swelling at the mention of New Orleans. He had made his home there while scouring the globe for magical artifacts and a means to reconnect with magic; Kol had found and lost much in the Crescent City.

"Us? New Orleans?" he said in the same skeptical tone. "I had heard we fled from it in fear of our father from Rebekah. What possible reason do we have to return to New Orleans now? The witches there hate us, Nik. They would never roll out the carpet and welcome us with open arms, smiles and all. Unless you'd managed to procure my Dark Objects - ah, there's a lovely idea! You know what? I think you should venture there and procure them for me. Then I'll help you with whatever you desire."

Kol slurped the coppery liquid, the plastic bag in his hand crumpling in on itself like paper. Meanwhile Klaus intertwined his fingers, a savage smirk planted on his face.

"Wonderful! I suppose this means having your full cooperation might happen after all!" he exclaimed.

Kol lowered the tube from his mouth, on guard. Didn't Klaus just hear him say that he wouldn't help him out?

"What do you mean?" he asked carefully. "Spill, Nik."

"Haven't you guessed it yet, Brother?" Klaus smirked. "We're already in New Orleans. We've returned to our city at long last."

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 **A/N: I'm sorry this chapter's a little bit short. Drop a review on the way out; favorite or follow if you like it. This is ExaltedLight signing out!**


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I don't own Twilight or The Originals. Stephenie Meyer created the Twilight Saga and Julie Plec created The Originals.**

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 **A/N: Thank you all for waiting patiently for Chapter 2. Thank you to the ten of you who favorited this story and the twenty-two of you who followed it. I normally make it a habit to thank everyone for favoriting and/or following at the beginning of the chapter, but not this time. However I will do my best to address any and all reviews at the beginning of each chapter.**

Guest: Thank you so much. I felt really unconfident, which was why it ended up being so short.

Lazygirl89: Thank you for the follow and welcome. To answer your question, the pairing will be Kola or Bella/Kol. Klamille is an OTP of mine so Klaus and Bella won't happen.

LeeChoonHee: Thank you for the favorite/follow and welcome. I promise that this chapter will be longer.

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 **A/N: The pairing of this fanfic is Bella/Kol. Will I write Halijah and Klamille too? I'm not a Halijah shipper but I am a Klamille shipper. I will reiterate the fact that _Lifeblood_ is loosely based off TO Season 1, thus I'll be adding my own ideas to the mix. In any case, Bella and Kol aren't the only ones to have perspectives in this fanfic; Klaus and Elijah will too.**

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 **A/N: Reviews, constructive criticism and feedback is strongly encouraged. I don't tolerate flamers, bullies or trolls.**

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 **A/N: I think that's everything. Now on to the second chapter!**

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 _Lifeblood_

 _A Twilight and the Originals Crossover_

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If there was one thing Klaus Mikaelson hated more than siblings who continually disappointed him, it would be vulnerability. He relished being in power and the benefits it provided him - control, terror and lesser souls pledging their allegiance. For a thousand years, Klaus had made it his sworn duty to remain one step ahead of everyone on the chessboard called life. After all, Klaus was the chessmaster - the king - the one who shifted everyone to their ordained destination. Aside from Elijah, Kol, Rebekah and a select few, Klaus viewed humans, vampires, werewolves and witches as expendable pawns - a means to an end. Only one person to this day had outwitted him and lived, and that was Stefan Salvatore. Klaus had sworn never to make the same mistake twice in any shape or form, yet Sophie Deveraux had managed to outsmart him despite his best efforts.

Sophie Deveraux. Klaus didn't trust her because she was a French Quarter witch, a descendant of witches who despised Klaus because of his very nature. As if it was his fault that his adulterous, depraved mother had slept with a werewolf and birthed Klaus many years before turning him into a vampire alongside his other siblings and then sealing away his werewolf gene with Petrova blood. Trusting the witches and following their plan would be the same as bowing down to them, and Klaus Mikaelson bowed down to no one. If the witches aimed to take back their city, then why shouldn't Klaus steal it from under them? The Mikaelson clan was once a monarchy in New Orleans.

In any event, there was only one person alive who knew the French Quarter witches better than Marcel or Klaus: Kol Mikaelson. Klaus had undaggered Kol because he required his younger brother's help in this matter, loathe as he was to admit it. There happened to be one little problem though: Kol was still pissed off that Klaus had daggered him for his own good. Right now Klaus needed Kol to stand by him, something which he had failed to do time and time again for the past thousand years and vice versa. Kol and Klaus had trusted each other as humans although vampirism had transformed them into mere shadows of themselves. Now the two brothers were little more than two strangers linked by blood and name.

Klaus stared at Kol, who was downing yet another blood bag relentlessly. The brunette Original's pale fingers were twined around the transparent bag, slurping the coppery fluid as though he was slurping a smoothie. His Herculean strength caused the small bag to crumple in on itself and crinkle. Kol's dark eyes drilled into Klaus, scarlet veins popping out slightly around his eyes. His mouth was stained crimson. However, none of these small details detracted from the shocked expression Kol wore at Klaus's announcement.

"That explains the endless jazz playing," he said suspiciously. "Being ripped out of the last century and plunged into this one tends to leave unintended side effects, Nik, and that would be not being savvy about the modern age. I was absent when audio broadcasting was introduced in the nineteen twenties. So how am I to know that I'm not just hearing a concert outside of somewhere like say, New York City for instance?"

Klaus looked at the dagger fit snugly in his hand and stashed it away. Appealing to Kol's ego might be the best course of action to take at the moment. However, Klaus wasn't idiotic enough to presume that he didn't have his work cut out for him; Kol wasn't as forgiving as Elijah and Rebekah to say the least.

"Well, perhaps a little sightseeing might convince you, little brother," Klaus suggested. "I'm told that another unintended side effect of being daggered is that you no longer bear witness to the world's changes. So even if you did see New Orleans with your own eyes, the one you remember isn't the same one we're in. In other words, I cannot convince you that the city you recall and the one we're in are one and the same. At any rate, I require your aid, Kol."

Kol brushed aside his bangs, his eyes colder than ice.

"I told you already, didn't I?" he said impatiently. "I said to procure my Dark Objects and then I'll help you, Nik. I'm not budging otherwise."

Klaus regarded Kol, feeling the smirk on his face grow wider.

"Oh, but you will," he promised his brother. "By the time this conversation is over, you will join me in my quest to reclaim the French Quarter for our family and to retrieve a daggered Elijah from the hands of a certain former ward of mine, one I'm sure that you're most familiar with."

Kol gritted his teeth, his eyes flashing dangerously.

"Are you saying that you left Elijah in the hands of Marcel Gerard?" he said dangerously. "Hang on, are -?"

"Yes," Klaus cut across Kol. "I'm absolutely certain that the vampire I'm dealing with is none other than Marcellus himself. I too had thought Marcel had perished in the French Opera House fire as we fled New Orleans to escape Mikael all those years ago. I was mistaken seeing as how he still draws breath."

"Well, why aren't you with Marcellus then?" Kol asked curiously. "Surely you've rejoiced at seeing your son alive and well, Nik. The son who you had chosen over me, your own brother. There should be no reason why you shouldn't dagger me right now and catch up with Marcel; no reason at all."

Kol lowered the blood bag while Klaus rummaged through the ginormous shopping bag, fishing out another blood bag. In hindsight, Klaus regretted choosing Marcel over Kol. However, Klaus was far too proud to let his younger brother know about that. In all honesty, Kol might not even believe him and rightfully so. Klaus had given his sibling the right to distrust him for a millennium and counting.

Klaus flung the blood bag at Kol, who deftly caught it.

"I have given you every reason to be wary of me regarding Marcel; I won't deny it. However, Marcel has done more than lie to this family; he had the audacity to crown himself king in our absence and now reigns over the vampires and witches. In short, he's nothing more than an usurper."

Kol raised his eyebrows when Klaus had mentioned his adoptive son ruling over not only the vampires but the witches. It was right then and there that Klaus knew he had Kol's undivided attention.

"I would say he's more of an opportunist," Kol disagreed. "Elijah, Rebekah and you had left a power vacuum and Marcel had simply stepped in to seize control. And to think that I had him pegged as a sycophant. Nevertheless, he has managed to accomplish something neither Elijah or you didn't while we lived here and that would be subjugating the French Quarter witches. I'd very much like to find out how he did it."

"As do I," Klaus admitted. "That's where you come in, Kol. Your knowledge of witchcraft is perhaps second to none; it's certainly better than mine to say the least. In addition, you've dabbled in the occult and acquainted yourself with powerful witches. I'd very much like it if you were to shed some light on how the covens in New Orleans can be subdued by a vampire such as Marcel."

Kol furrowed his eyebrows, lost in thought. Then he burst into speech:

"The New Orleans witches practice ancestral magic rather than spiritual magic. Their branch of specialized magic has always been somewhat of a novelty to me. Even so, every practitioner of witchcraft has a unique magical signature that shines like a beacon whenever a spell, hex, charm, jinx or curse is performed. Only an extremely powerful witch could sense magic being cast at the moment. Although if New Orleans has such a witch, then odds are that they're aligned with Marcel. But it's as I said before; the witches here hate us and Marcel so it's highly unlikely one of them will willingly pledge their loyalty to Marcellus."

Klaus's smile evaporated as he too delved into deep thought. Did Sophie Deveraux and the French Quarter witches have a witch who'd defected from their ranks? The only details Elijah had garnered from the untrustworthy coven was that they had been shut down by Marcel magically. But why was the question here, and all Kol had to offer was a working theory.

"Would there be any particular reason why a French Quarter witch would defect from a coven?" he asked his brother. "It'd be unwise to rule out an embittered witch wanting revenge on their coven."

"An embittered witch acting out of their own accord? Entirely possible," Kol said slowly. "But a New Orleans witch is dependent on the Ancestors for their source of power. If they're cut off from that power source, then they must seek out another way to perform magic. In all my years mingling with the New Orleans witches, I've yet to see one seek other means to perform magic. The sheer humiliation of being ousted from their community is a fate worse than death in their eyes, and the only way to escape such a destiny is by ending their own lives. Again, this is all theoretical on my end. I apologize if I'm of little to no help to you, Nik. May you please not dagger me for disappointing you?"

It was disheartening to hear that Kol had only a vague idea as to what horrible weapon Marcel employed to keep the French Quarter witches in line. As capricious as Klaus was, Kol's fears of being daggered were warranted; Klaus had daggered Elijah and Rebekah for much less. Fortunately for Kol, Klaus still needed him.

"I won't dagger you," Klaus said. "Although if you help me to take down Marcel, then I'll see to it that I'll help you find these Dark Objects you're speaking of as long as you don't intend to use one on me."

Kol opened the tube, staring at the blood bag as though fascinated by it.

"Thank you, Nik," he said gratefully. "I haven't had gestures of kindness from you since the sixteenth century in Bavaria. I suppose I shouldn't get used to it; less expectations means less disappointment."

Kol made to partake from the blood bag though Klaus sat forward.

"Can I trust you, Kol?" he asked warily.

"I should be asking you the same thing, Nik," Kol answered. "Can I trust you not to dagger me?"

"Should you not displease me, then I'd like to think so," Klaus said. "Let me rephrase my question, Kol. Can I trust you not to renege on our alliance?"

Kol rolled his eyes.

"I won't renege; you have my word on that."

Klaus knew better than to take Kol's word; Kol tended to twist promises he made around to further his own agenda just as Elijah did. Klaus feared Kol's unpredictability and the fact that it made him a wild card. If he wasn't careful, then Kol might checkmate him.

Rebekah's indignant screams rippled through the plantation just then. Klaus heard his sister curse him and insult him with every name she could think of under the sun. Kol heard Rebekah too and shook his head.

"Honestly, I don't see why you bothered inviting Rebekah," he admitted. "You and I both know her history with Marcel might compromise her familial loyalty, so -"

"I had no intention of inviting Rebekah to New Orleans," Klaus said truthfully. "The only reason I could think of as to why she's here is Elijah; Elijah must've attempted to convince our sister to return here because of a particular problem I had gotten myself into."

"Which is?" Kol prompted Klaus.

Klaus sprang to his feet, unsure whether to inform Kol about the Hayley Marshall situation. He still had trouble believing he had impregnated the werewolf during their one-night stand. Did Klaus believe he had fathered Hayley's child, as impossible as it sounded? He hadn't come to terms about it yet. To be honest, Klaus didn't even want the child.

"Never you mind, Kol," Klaus said flatly. "Finish your swig of blood before we head upstairs to greet our beloved sister. I have some words to exchange with her myself."

* * *

After Kol finished the last of the blood bag, Klaus had carried the shopping bag chock-full of their blood supply with him up the stairs. Kol followed suit, looking over his shoulder and spotting the flat black coffin studded with brass on the dusty floor - the coffin where he slumbered for who knew how long.

"What's the year?" Kol asked suddenly.

Klaus half-turned his neck to scrutinize Kol.

"It's still 2011," he said promptly.

Kol almost missed the next step. He had been daggered a few months compared to the ninety seven years he had endured last time. Almost an entire century. Kol had been daggered for a little over a century one time so taking long slumbers wasn't a new thing for him. That didn't mean Kol enjoyed slumbering dreamlessly; he hated it with a passion.

"Not long, then," Kol said with forced cheerfulness. "I could use a good fight right about now."

The two Originals scaled the staircase, the dim lighting growing brighter and brighter until they reached the topmost stair. Pastel brown walls surrounded them, void of ornamentation or designs. An almost-invisible thin layer of dust drifted through the air, smelling a little musty. Kol had a hunch that the residence where Klaus had moved into had been vacant for quite some time. As the two brothers ambled through the hallways, Kol felt as though he had been here before; the layout of this residence seemed quite familiar albeit he couldn't exactly remember what house had this layout.

"I concur on that, Brother, but we must keep a low profile for now," Klaus cautioned. "Marcel doesn't just rule the city; he has set rules that all vampires must enforce, one of which I had the liberty of breaking. I had gone through a great deal to smooth over relations with Marcel; I must remain on his good side if I am to figure out his deepest, most precious secrets before I topple him off the throne he is so fond of occupying."

"So, painting the town red isn't an option?" Kol asked disapprovingly. "I might not know what rules Marcel has set although I'm pretty sure murder is forbidden. You know, why must the best indulgences of all be outlawed and frowned upon? I might just break one of Marcel's rules out of boredom."

Klaus turned around and leaned against a closed door, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Try not to make me regret undaggering you, Kol," he warned Kol. "I beg of you not to break Marcel's rules just to spite him; you are the Mikaelson he likes the least and with this weapon that subdues the witches, I can't guarantee any harm won't befall you if you step out of line."

Kol frowned. He had drafted an entire list of practical jokes and pranks to play on Marcel, who detested Kol and vice versa. Even so, Kol had enough common sense to know that Marcel would withhold Elijah should Kol break one of the vampire's rules, not to mention it would be back in the coffin for him.

"You're asking me to follow your every command, no matter how ludicrous they may be," Kol said. "Let's see: you had given Elijah to Marcel, hoping to win his trust. What in the hell were you thinking, doing that? Marcel has the upper hand over you when it comes to Elijah now; he could use him as leverage to ensure you know your place. This weapon he possesses - he might even use it on Elijah. Did you ever think about that?"

Klaus drew himself from the door, wearing a deep frown.

"You'd do well not to question me about my motives, Kol," he advised him. "I have a plan already set in motion to return Elijah to our side. If you help me rescue Elijah, then his opinion of you would definitely change."

"The only reason I'm rescuing Elijah is because he's my brother," Kol said stiffly. "I don't give a damn about what his opinion of me might be. In any case, shall we see why the strumpet is paying you a visit?"

Klaus and Kol zipped through the hallway and paused in front of the large staircase, a dark-haired girl standing haughtily on the bottommost step. The brunette wheeled around, fixing her olive green eyes onto Klaus and Kol. Meanwhile a blonde teenage girl with grayish-blue eyes glowered at Klaus. Rebekah Mikaelson, their younger sister.

"Enough with all the shouting, Sister!" Klaus said flippantly. "I should've known. I assume the six dead vampires were your doing."

Even though Kol was thrilled to see Rebekah in the flesh, he wondered why Rebekah would kill vampires without reason. She wasn't the type to hunt down random vampires for sport.

"Well, they were rude," Rebekah defended herself. "They tried to victimize a poor, innocent girl trying to find her way through the French Quarter."

Kol snorted derisively. Rebekah rounded on him.

"Did I say something funny, Kol?" she challenged him. "Well, out with it!"

"It's great to see you too, Sister," Kol said lightly. "I hate to tear apart your fantasy but you're far from a poor, innocent girl. In any case, I'd love to see what punishment Marcellus has in store for you."

"Marcel would never punish me," Rebekah said confidently. "There's only one person who goes out of their way to punish me and that would be our heartless bastard brother, Kol. How could you side with him knowing what he did to Elijah? Oh, wait. Your sense of familial loyalty is skewed like Klaus's, so I guess there isn't much point in wondering why you sided with him. You're out for yourself as usual."

Before Kol could answer, Klaus dropped the shopping bag to the floor and strode forward.

"Kol and I would love to hear the litany of accusations and insults you've prepared for us, but now isn't the time," he said. "I'd like it very much if we redirect the topic to Marcel. You remember Marcel, don't you?"

Rebekah flushed, her eyes narrowing.

"Judging from the blushing, it's safe to say that you do," Klaus went on. "How could you not, as close as you two were? Well, Marcel fancies himself as king of the French Quarter now, and he has these rules about killing vampires. I'm afraid I am on the same page as Kol as of now, Rebekah: it'd be fun to see what kind of punishment he comes up with for you."

The color in Rebekah's cheeks faded as she glared at both Kol and Klaus. Then she drew herself up to her full height and clenched her fist.

"I don't give a damn about Marcel or his rules," she said coldly. "Elijah doesn't welsh on deals, you two. What did you do to him, Klaus? Answer me."

Kol zoned out of the conversation and saw the brunette from before leaning against the balustrade, contemplating the Original siblings. She brought her chin up as she turned on her heel and left the lobby, her footsteps echoing behind her. Whoever she was, Kol had a gut feeling that Elijah had made a deal with her.

Kol overheard Klaus telling Rebekah that she remembered this house as well as he did, and realization sank in. This was the mansion where Elijah had conducted his business in while they resided in New Orleans. Kol had only visited the mansion occasionally and remembered how lavish and grandiose it appeared back in the day.

Rebekah stormed past Klaus and Kol as she burst through the closest door and exited the lobby. Kol turned to Klaus, who smirked.

"And they say I'm an ass," Kol commented. "You know how vicious Bex can be, Nik. Surely you can make an exception this time around and -"

"And have her moralize at me some more?" Klaus interrupted Kol. "It's not going to happen, Brother. You know as well as I do that Rebekah lacks lucidity in times of crises. No, it's best she stays out of this. However, I don't intend to have Rebekah feel unwelcome, so I'm going to go after her. In the meantime, why don't you reacquaint yourself with this lovely plantation? Marcel lives in our old home, so we have to make do with Elijah's mansion for now. There are plenty of rooms for you to select to be your bedroom."

Yeah, Klaus was definitely being too benevolent right now. Kol had to do his best to remain on Klaus's good side - especially since his brother had promised to help him procure his Dark Objects. He had to be on his best behavior, which was going to be quite the Herculean task. In spite of himself, Kol found himself desiring to have Klaus's trust once more. Truth be told, he envied Elijah and Rebekah's bond to Klaus all these centuries while the fraternal bond Kol had shared with Klaus was evanescent.

"I'm bored of this stuffy, old mansion," Kol said truthfully. "Why must I be a prisoner confined in these walls, Nik? Did you perchance imprison the girl from earlier in these walls too? Am I allowed to ask who she is or not?"

Klaus grinned.

"Oh, don't mind the little wolf," he assured Kol. "I certainly don't. Unless you have any more questions, then I better be off to calm down Rebekah."

"None," Kol said.

Klaus nodded as he rubbed his palms together, wheeled around and exited the lobby, leaving Kol behind. The rebellious part of Kol urged him to disregard everything Klaus had told him and leave the plantation to indulge in debauchery. The rational part of him, however, reminded him that such actions would have him at the end of a dagger before he knew it.

With that being said, Kol Mikaelson was incredibly bored; he couldn't antagonize Marcel without consequences, he couldn't assert his independence without consequences and he probably couldn't go anywhere without consequences. Living such a tedious, uneventful life was killing him inside - very slowly. Kol would rather have Finn give him long-winded lectures than sit in a mansion restricted from life's pleasures for the time being.

How in the hell was he supposed to help Klaus without losing his sanity? Kol didn't know the answer to that although he hoped one would appear in the foreseeable future.

"So this is to be the story of my life from now on," Kol yawned. "Fantastic. I might as well get accustomed to perpetual boredom."

 _And figure out a way to break free from it,_ Kol finished in his head as he made his way into the living room

Kol walked past a mirror propped against the wall just then, catching a glimpse of what he looked like to everyone. His chocolaty hair cascaded past his neck, disheveled and knotted. His mouth was coated in lurid red, rivers of crimson staining his jawline. The clothing he had woken up in was bedraggled and slightly smelly. The devilishly handsome Kol Mikaelson was fashionably out of place, in desperate need of a new and improved look.

"I can't wander New Orleans looking like an eyesore," he mumbled.

"Look at you, mumbling like a madman," an unfamiliar feminine voice drifted from up above.

Kol whipped around so fast that his hair swayed slightly. The brunette from earlier had returned, her mouth taut. One of her arms were thrown over the wooden railing, her eyebrows raised so high they were in danger of disappearing completely.

"I'm over a thousand years old, darling," he said sweetly. "If you've lived as long as I have, you're bound to have a screw or two loose. Haven't your parents ever told you that if you don't have anything nice to say, then don't say anything at all?"

"I didn't know my parents," the girl said. "My adoptive parents weren't exactly the best parents either. Your parents, according to Elijah, were pretty crappy too. I would've probably turned out like you guys if I was your parents' daughter."

Kol tore his eyes away from the stranger, wanting none of her pity. It was already bad enough Klaus had him on parole; he didn't want others to see his misery and comment on it.

"Well, parenthood is quite honestly overrated," he said honestly. "Even if I did marry and have children when I was still a witch, I'm not entirely sure I would've been a good father."

The girl placed one hand over her stomach and glanced at it. She drew her hand away, looking rather haughty.

"I didn't mean to say you were crazy or anything," she said apologetically. "Your choice of clothing, your hair and your mumbling reminded me of an insane homeless man who had tried to mug me a few years back. I know that since you're a vampire and technically dead, you can't have kids or anything. But if you were still a witch and had a one-night stand with a girl, only to knock the girl up, what would you do?"

Kol was taken aback at this type of question. He loved being a vampire more than anything else in the world albeit there were times where he missed his days as a witch. As a witch, Kol was handsome and powerful yet vulnerable to disease and werewolves. He was a servant of nature, a keeper of the balance who protected the Earth and mankind from malefic intent. As a vampire, he would be forever handsome, ageless and powerful, able to give and take away life with his own hands. He could save lives with his own blood but not with magic. Kol wasn't Klaus, who charted his life's next steps as he moved forward in this life. He lived in the moment, taking life as it came at him.

"I've never really thought about it," he admitted, "but if I was a witch in this century and had knocked a girl up, I wouldn't just leave the poor dear to fend for herself. I'd acknowledge the child as mine. What a strange question to ask of me, an Original."

"At least you have a better response than your brother Klaus," the girl said. "When he found out I was carrying his child, he wanted me dead."

Kol popped his mouth open, holding one finger in the air.

"Back up a minute, love," he said slowly. "Did you or did you not say that you're pregnant with my brother's child? Niklaus's child?"

The brunette nodded.

"I thought Klaus had told you."

"He most certainly did not," Kol disagreed. "An Original fathering a child? Now I've heard everything. Elijah, Nik and I can't have children, darling. We died as humans and then came back as vampires. Well, except for Klaus; he transformed into a hybrid and almost slaughtered the villagers. Klaus's furry little problem told us all that our father wasn't his. You probably already heard the story from Elijah so I won't reiterate. But now that I think about it, Klaus might be the only one among us to sire a child now that his werewolf gene has been reactivated. Keyword: might. I haven't introduced myself by the way. Kol Mikaelson although I'm sure you know that already."

"Hayley. Marshall," the brunette introduced herself. "Prisoner of this plantation. You believed my story almost as quickly as Elijah did."

"I said it might be possible," Kol said carefully. "I didn't say I believed you. As a matter of fact, I'm shocked Nik hasn't said anything, being the proud father that he is, hmm?"

Kol could see Klaus waltzing into the living room out of the corner of his eye. His brother looked up at Hayley disdainfully, Hayley meeting his stare almost as disdainfully. Those two didn't like each other much.

"I was waiting for the right moment to tell you," Klaus began. "But it looks as if the little wolf had beaten me to it."

Kol snorted derisively.

"I think you've done enough for one day," Klaus said icily. "How about calling it a night and leaving us be, little wolf?"

Hayley sighed.

"It's not as if I have a lot of freedom anyway," she said unhappily. "But hey, I'll take what I can get and _gladly_ leave the room you're in, Klaus."

She lifted her nose in the air and marched off. Kol waited until Hayley was out of earshot to speak to Klaus although his brother had already burst into speech:

"I suppose I was a little . . . embarrassed to admit the truth about Hayley and I."

Kol ignored Klaus; he couldn't exactly trust his brother if he kept on lying or withholding information. Sooner or later, Kol might break his deal with Klaus if things kept on progressing in this fashion.

"At least answer me honestly on this much: does the sudden interest in reclaiming the French Quarter come from the child or is this another one of your power grabs, Brother?" Kol asked.

"I couldn't care less about what Hayley carries in her womb," Klaus answered. "I want what Marcel has, that's all. Now that I've managed to calm down our sister somewhat, I've come to realize that I missed a rather large detail, and that is the state of disarray you're in, Kol."

"I was wondering when your brotherly instincts would kick in," Kol said sarcastically. "I was starting to think you didn't have any."

Klaus began circling around Kol, his eyes roving around his brother's figure. A contemplating expression was on his face.

"I believe they might be a bit snug, but my clothes would fit you," he said pensively. "Your hair, on the other hand, might look more presentable in a ponytail."

Klaus opened his palm, and Kol saw a dark barrette resting there. Kol didn't really want to put his hair into a ponytail or roam around town wearing hand-me-down clothing. He wanted to change styles right now.

"I think I'd rather trim my hair instead," he admitted. "Or compel a hairdresser to do it for me free of charge."

Klaus sighed.

"That might be difficult seeing as how every barber shop in New Orleans is closed for tonight," he said matter-of-factly. "You can update your look first thing tomorrow, Kol. But right now, I need you to start getting ready. Marcel and I are scheduled for drinks later this evening."

"I don't see why I should come along," Kol said. "After all, you did say that Marcel liked me the least."

Klaus smirked his signature smirk.

"Oh, come now; you don't want to die of boredom in this musty old house," he smirked. "In today's world, you and I can't even legally drink, which makes drinking bourbon all the more worthwhile. We might not be able to paint the town red although we certainly do know how to have a good time. Admit it, Kol: having a good time sounds fun right about now, wouldn't you agree?"

Why was Klaus trying to bond with Kol again after so many years? Did Klaus want more from him or was he really trying to be more brotherly? Well, there was only one way for Kol to find out.

"On second thought, why the hell not?" Kol said with a smile.

* * *

After Bella and Renée had packed the last of the boxes, they carried them outside and loaded them into the trunk of the borrowed car. Renée closed the trunk with one hand, a relaxed smile on her face. Meanwhile Bella wheeled around and scrutinized the house one last time. Her mother had suggested they cruise through Phoenix one more time although Bella said no; she didn't want to make things harder than they already were.

Bella and her mother headed to Sky Harbor International Airport with the windows open. The brunette stuck her hand out the window, her long hair flying in the artificial wind. The late April evening wasn't too hot nor too cold - typical spring weather for the average Phoenician. The jet-black blanket suspended over the skyscrapers tonight wasn't inlaid with rhinestones but rather layered with thin smog. The same smog which blended beautifully with the sunrises and sunsets in the Valley of the Sun. Bella had a feeling that she'd miss the killer sunrises and sunsets dearly. New Orleanian sunrises and sunsets weren't probably as spectacular although Bella might be wrong.

They pulled into the large parking lot and slipped out of the vehicle, Bella shaking her loose hair. Technically Bella was still a sophomore in high school; school didn't stop until the end of May. However, she might as well be a junior. Bella mulled over what her first day of school might be like as she helped her mother pulled what few belongings they had decided to bring along out of the trunk. An airport vehicle whizzed past them just then, and Bella found herself trying to flag it down. Renée caught the driver's attention by yelling at the top of her lungs. When the vehicle screeched to a halt in front of them, Bella approached the driver and forked over the fare.

Bella and her mother arrived at Terminal Four almost five minutes later, climbing out of the passenger seats and lending a hand to their valet in taking down their luggage. The women thanked the valet for their help as they guided the luggage toward the terminal. People lingered outside the building, waiting for taxis or a ride. Cars, trucks and airport vehicles weaved in and out of the lanes, picking up pedestrians or dropping them off. People walked past them, lost in their own world as they either entered or exited the terminal.

Bella nodded at her mother as she dragged her luggage through the automatic doors and onto the beige carpeting. She hadn't been to Sky Harbor Airport since last summer; it hadn't changed a whole lot. Bella moved past the first pair of baggage carousels, littered with differently shaped boxes and luggage. She imagined Charlie and her meeting over there last year, saying their farewells and hugging each other. Charlie may dote on Bella whenever he saw her although Bella was certain that Charlie would slip into his paternal role if Bella had moved to Forks. She wasn't going to see her father this summer because Renée and she were moving halfway across the country.

"You're thinking about your dad, aren't you, honey?" Renée said smartly.

Bella started.

"Y-Yeah," she stammered. "This summer was my turn to travel. I mean, I had already explained the situation to Dad so he understands. But I can't help but feel bad because I was looking forward to seeing him and him me. I'm sorry if I made you feel horrible, Mom; I shouldn't have said anything."

Renée shrugged her shoulders.

"I'm the one who asked," she said truthfully. "I'm going to try to see what I can do to send you to Forks before Christmastime."

Bella might strongly dislike wet, cold climates albeit she had never seen snow up close before. Charlie usually regaled stories about his winter escapades to Bella, who had always wondered what Forks looked like during Christmastime.

"I wouldn't mind going to Forks at Christmastime," Bella admitted. "I know it'd be cold and wet but I'll manage."

Renée had a rather surprised expression on her face; she hadn't expected Bella to express an interest in visiting Forks during the wintertime. Bella didn't envision herself doing that either but not seeing Charlie this summer really bummed her out.

"If that's how you feel, then maybe I'll send you there at Christmastime," she said. "Let's just see how things turn out for us first in New Orleans, okay?"

Bella and her mother didn't talk much as they hauled the boxes and luggage onto the conveyor belt, Bella pulling out two battered books and her Nintendo DS. She slipped her handheld into her jeans pocket before zipping up her suitcase and watching it melt into the darkness behind the flaps. She then produced a pair of earphones and plugged them into her ears as she turned on her heel and walked toward the checkpoint with Renée.

They allowed the security guards to inspect them for protocol before they gave them permission to board the airplane. Renée and Bella entered the second class section and found their seats, plopping onto them moments later. The airplane stewardess - a perky blonde girl not much older than Bella - waited until every passenger had taken their seats and each luggage on board before introducing herself and going over standard rules and guidelines. Renée was teetering on the edge of her seat while Bella opened Clockwork Orange and immersed herself in the story.

The airplane didn't land in the Louis Armstrong New Orleans International Airport until 10:50 PM Arizona Time, which was 12:50 AM Central Time. Bella closed the literature book she was reading as her mother sprang to her feet, stretched out her arms and yawned. Bella was feeling slightly exhausted herself.

"We're almost there, Mom," Bella assured her. "We just have to walk through the airport and meet Phil outside. Phil's doing everything he can to claim a house or apartment in the French Quarter; I'm not sure why we couldn't move somewhere more simple."

Bella had pulled up photographs of the French Quarter online on her phone; she liked it quaintness at first although balked at the average cost of living in such a neighborhood; it was too costly. Then again, everything in New Orleans was rumored to be expensive.

Renée nodded weakly, covering her mouth to stifle an incoming yawn. The two of them plodded through the airplane shaft and into the terminal. People were rambling across the terminal, either meeting up with someone or bidding farewell. Tourists brandished souvenirs they'd obtained from New Orleans happily. Security guards roamed the terminal, eyeing each and every person passing by vigilantly.

"Which conveyor belt did the stewardess say to go to again?" a yawning Renée asked Bella.

Bella wheeled around, searching for the baggage carousel that matched the stewardess's description. Her eyes settled on a carousel to the north.

"That one."

Bella and Renée went over to the baggage carousel, which was spitting out luggage and suitcases. Renée bounced up and down on the balls of her feet, waiting impatiently for her stuff to materialize. Bella, however, walked around the conveyor belt to check if their belongings had surfaced on the other side. She made the trip about seven times before her mom's luggage was ejected from the hole and slid down onto the conveyor belt noisily. Bella snatched it and plopped it onto the floor just as their boxes joined her mother's suitcase. As Bella grabbed them and stacked them neatly on top of each other, she heard footsteps shuffling behind her.

Bella wheeled around just as her stepfather Phil Dwyer approached her, a welcoming smile plastered on his face.

"Your mother doesn't travel light, does she?" he joked. "It's great to see you, Bella."

"Hello, Phil," Bella greeted him. "It's great to see you too."

Phil drew closer to Bella and helped her unload everything just as Renée dashed over, alight with happiness. She laced her arms around Phil and hugged him, thanking him for everything. Bella chimed in, politely thanking Phil for his assistance. Phil kissed her mom on the cheek, and Bella was once again reminded of the seven year difference between her and Phil. It felt really awkward that her stepfather was old enough to be her elder brother. Then again, Bella's mother fell for men younger than her so it came as little to no surprise that she fell in love with Phil.

The three of them ambled across the terminal with their possessions, Phil informing Renée about the houses he had his eyes on in the French Quarter. He pulled out his phone and blew up photos, showing them to Bella and Renée. Bella almost cringed at the ostentatious, modern architecture. Renée, however, commented on each and every one delightedly.

"What do you think, Bella?" Phil asked her. "Your input is every bit as valuable as your mom's, just so you know."

Bella looked taken aback; she didn't expect Phil would want her say in which house he should choose.

"I'm not sure," she lied.

Renée sighed.

"You're lying, Bella," she said. "Phil, darling, Bella doesn't like any of them. She'd prefer to live somewhere affordable and comfortable. Sometimes I wish she'd start wanting more and not less."

Bella face-palmed.

"How about this, Mom? I'll go with you and Phil tomorrow and see which one best fits us," she said. "I don't want to have an argument over our personal tastes, especially in a city where everything is expensive. I mean, tomorrow's Saturday; I don't have school or anything else occupying me, so I'm free."

"Someone has to make sure Renée doesn't go on a shopping spree," Phil agreed. "I managed to make a reservation at a Hilton on Canal Street. We'll sleep there tonight before heading out tomorrow to browse the houses."

Phil ushered Bella and Renée over to his car, loading the boxes and luggage into the car. The three of them hopped in the vehicle and drove off into the Crescent City. Bella poked her head out, feeling the cool breeze slap against her face on the freeway. New Orleans's night sky was moonless yet glowed brightly with the city lights. She wondered how long it'd take for them to arrive at the French Quarter. Bella pulled out her iPod Shuffle and switched it on, searching through her Classical Music playlist for a song she felt like hearing. Beethoven sounded good.

Before she knew it, Phil had got off the freeway and turned in the direction he needed to go. The French Quarter shone scarlet and white in the night, casting light onto the silhouettes of passerby. Bella drummed her fingers on the windowsill, wondering how much longer it'd be until they got to the hotel. It had been an eventful day full of twists and turns.

"I wonder how it looks during the daytime," Renée said. "The Quarter looks spooky in the dead of night. D'you think it could really be haunted, Phil? I mean, New Orleans."

"I don't believe in such things," Phil scoffed. "Ghosts only exist in books and cinema."

"Maybe the locals think differently," Bella said. "New Orleans is rich with history, you know."

"True," Phil conceded. "But haunted? I doubt it. In any case, we're here."

Phil had pulled up into the hotel parking lot just and parked in a slot. Bella and Renée hopped out of the vehicle just as Phil turned it off. Phil opened the trunk as Bella and her mother gathered everything and hauled it out of the car. Bella's stepfather slammed the trunk shut before beckoning at Bella and Renée, who followed him into the grandiose Hilton. They burst through the double doors, Bella trying to take in the layout of the lobby just as Phil guided them to their suite. The whole room was too showy and gaudy for Bella's tastes although it did have two beds. She went over to the one furthest from the door and deposited everything onto the bed, sifting through everything thoroughly.

"I'm missing a slender box," she noted. "I packed my hygiene in there. Can I have your car keys, Phil? I'll be quick."

Phil dropped the keys in Bella's palm, and Bella thanked him from the bottom of her heart. She wrenched open the suite door and sauntered through the hallway, her head throbbing. Bella was hitting her limit; she might collapse from exhaustion at this rate. She stifled a yawn as she drifted over the marble floor and outside, the keys jingling in her hand.

Bella stepped onto the asphalt, painfully aware of how deathly silent the parking lot was. Her imagination had gotten the best of her as she started wondering if a killer lurked in the shadows, on the prowl for another kill. Okay, she was officially being paranoid.

She drew closer to the car and unlocked the trunk. The car trunk popped open and Bella hurled it upward, pulling out her Android and turning on its flashlight. She waved it rather hastily, a slender box jumping out at her in the semi-darkness. Bella smirked as she dragged it from the corner and swept it into her hand. She was about to slam the trunk shut when her neck prickled. Bella felt her heart pounding crazily, her hands trembling. For some reason, her instincts were telling her to run as far away as possible. There was danger afoot. Someone here.

Bella turned around slowly, hearing her heart thundering in her ears. There wasn't a person in sight, which struck her as rather peculiar. She knew when she was being watched. Should she acknowledge the presence? Maybe her mother was right; New Orleans could be haunted.

"Who's there?" Bella called out.

A hand clapped itself over a shocked Bella's mouth and she screamed.

* * *

 **A/N: I'm done with the second chapter. I decided to have Bella closer to Renée and Charlie in _Lifeblood_. My memories of Renée and Phil are fuzzy so I probably wrote them OOC. In any case, Klaus is trying to make amends with Kol as well. Drop a review, favorite or follow on the way out. This is ExaltedLight signing out!**


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